Lost One
by Zenith Quasar
Summary: Ichigo knows he's attracted to Grimmjow the moment he meets him. What he doesn't know, is whose bed the deviant shares at night. And when Grimmjow starts to return Ichigo's feelings, he begins to wonder if his life of crime could ever allow him to share something with a straight-A med student-that is, if Aizen would ever let him go. Yaoi, Aizen/Grimmjow, Grimmjow/Ichigo.
1. Chapter 1

Smoke filled the club's bathroom. Ichigo didn't look up from his business but he could see someone lean back against dirty tile, resting his head and looking up at the ceiling as he took a long drag. Enough of the smoke trailed his way that Ichigo could tell it was weed.

"Hope you don't mind," the man said when Ichigo did up his fly and turned to the sinks.

Ichigo just shrugged. He only got a glimpse of the man before he turned his back to wash his hands but his eyes flicked up to the mirror.

It was him. It was the man he'd been eyeing all night long. Wild blue hair adorned a long, slender jawed face. His body was toned and lean, or at least seemed to be beneath the jacket and jeans he wore. But of all his attractive features, it had been his eyes that caught Ichigo. Ice blue and hard as steel. He'd turned them Ichigo's direction earlier in the night and the young man had nearly choked on his beverage. But his gaze hadn't lingered and he'd disappeared into the crowd a while later.

The man checked his cell, cursed and stomped out his joint. Ichigo was drying his hands when he shoved out the door. He followed him out but he was already lost in the crowds. He wondered where he'd been headed in such a hurry.

Ichigo moved to the bar and signaled for another drink. Just as his beer was passed to him, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Ichigo." It was Mizuiro, one of the two he'd come here with. "Keigo's drunk, I'm taking him home."

"Haha, good call," Ichigo said, seeing Keigo leaned against the wall by the door, waiting. "I just ordered this."

"I'm fine on my own," Mizuiro assured. "See you at school."

"Night."

Ichigo waved off the pair. Normally he didn't stay at clubs on his own. He wasn't one to chat up strangers, it was a place to go with his friends. But he sat at the bar to finish his drink and scanned the crowd for the young man.

There. At the back, near a fire exit. He saw him with his back flush to the wall, another man had a grip around his collar. Words were exchanged, it looked like an argument but no one noticed in the dark. A second man approached and grabbed the blue haired man's arm. They hauled him off the wall and out the door.

Ichigo put his beer down and stood. He glanced around but no one else seemed to have seen or to be concerned. He began pushing through the crowd and toward the back door.

Wait. He stopped just before prying it open. What the Hell was he doing? He was rushing into a dangerous situation for someone he didn't even know—was he insane?  
Apparently, because while his mind was arguing his hands were still acting and he opened the back door.

"Let go!"

He heard them at once. They had moved around the corner. Ichigo waited for a moment.

"Just come with us, Grimmjow."

"Fuck you, Stark, I'm not getting in that car."

"Yeah, you are." A heavier voice said. He heard some movement before the blue haired man—Grimmjow—swore.

"Back off, Yammy, I can handle this." The voice of another—Stark—said. "Come on, Grimmjow, you need to come home."

_Home?_ What had he walked in on? He'd thought the stranger had gotten into trouble with dealers or thugs or something but this was sounding entirely different. He remained flush against the wall, not wanting to be seen now, embarrassed if he'd walked in on some strange domestic situation, but still not sure Grimmjow wasn't in danger.

"I don't want to right now. I'm not a little kid, it's not like I ran away. I'll go back when I'm ready."

"But he's ready."

"Well guess what, Kawada's crew are in tonight. I'm the one who set that up. They expect me to be there. I do have work to do, you know."

"Shit." One of the men seemed to be considering it. "What time?"

"Two hours, at the yard. Stark, they're expecting me. It could blow the deal if I don't show."

"Great." He heard a sigh then there was silence. The one named Stark must have pulled out his phone because suddenly he was talking to a voice Ichigo couldn't here.

"Tell Aizen-sama we'll be a bit longer. Got to deal with Kawada's shipment. Grimmjow will be home in the morning."

_Aizen_. Ichigo knew the name vaguely, overheard in rumours and thrown out court cases that made the papers. He was a business man, very rich, very powerful. Did Grimmjow work for him? No, they'd said _home_…

"Come on, then, we'll go with you."

"You might spook him."

"Then it'll be on us if the deal falls through. Let's go, Grimmjow."

There was silence, followed by a long sigh. Slowly the bodies moved away back toward the street.

Ichigo let out the breath he'd been holding.

"Shit." What had he just overheard? He couldn't do anything about it, but it didn't sit right with him as he left the back of bar and hailed a cab for home.

* * *

Ichigo couldn't get the conversation out of his head for the entire night. He was exhausted when he drug himself out of bed and forced himself to get ready for a day of classes. When he checked his schedule, he groaned. He had forgotten tonight he had to put in hours at the hospital.

Sometimes being a pre-med student sucked.

Keigo was hung over when they met in the courtyard for lunch. He was studying Kinesiology and they shared a couple of classes. They both half slept through anatomy and then it was time for Ichigo to head across town to the hospital.

He listened to music as he rode the bus. When he arrived, he changed and shoved his stuff into a locker and then tried to track down the head nurse who could tell him what he was supposed to be doing tonight.

His shift went until midnight. He was utterly spent when he headed back for the locker, passing by a number of offices in the outpatient department on his way. He saw a tall man with waves of brown hair just leaving one of said offices with a doctor. He didn't know his face but when he spoke Ichigo was sent straight back to the night before.

"I can't keep doing this." The doctor was saying as they walked down the corridor.

"What, we not paying enough?" As soon as the tall man spoke, Ichigo knew it was Stark. He pulled an envelope from his pocket and passed it to the doctor.

"It's not that." The doctor argued. They had stopped just down the hall. Ichigo had stopped at the vending machine, pretending to look over the contents. "It's fudging the reports, risking my career. I should have reported this long ago. If anyone found out—"

"Shh, doc, they won't."

"Fine."

Their conversation was ending, Ichigo was about to leave when a gruff voice came from right behind him.

"Any chance you're buying a pack of those?"

He spun, startled, and found a black and blue face right next to his. His blue hair seemed even wilder and his eyes a bit dulled, likely from pain killers.

Ichigo calmed himself and followed the man's hand—which was in a fresh looking cast—and found him pointing at the item in E7—cigarettes.

Ichigo probably looked stupid, because he was too stunned to think or speak, but he nodded and pulled out the cash he had in his pocket.

The cigarettes hit the bottom of the machine. He pulled them out and opened them up to offer one to Grimmjow.

The other took it and dug in his pocket with his good hand. He could still hold the cigarette with the fingers of his broken hand, though they were swollen.

"Um, outside?" Ichigo indicated when he saw Grimmjow already starting to light up.

Grimmjow glanced over his shoulder, likely checking if Stark had spotted him or not, and then his eyes cast around, probably looking for an exit sign.

"This way." Ichigo took them around a couple corners and out a door. It was a stairwell, metal and cold in the autumn night.

Grimmjow moved along the grated walkway to the top of the steps. Ichigo could tell by the way he moved he was sore. He probably had other injuries beneath his long sleeves and jeans.

He stopped at the top step and Ichigo wondered if he was contemplating going down them—leaving Stark behind. But he just took a long drag and sat. Ichigo stood behind him. He didn't actually smoke so he wasn't quite sure what he should do.

"Need a light?" Grimmjow asked him.

"Ah…yeah." He moved over and took the lighter held up to him. He managed to light the cigarette and not choke on it. He handed the lighter back and leaned against the rail.

"Do I know you?" Grimmjow asked him without looking up.

"No. I mean, we were at the same club last night."

Grimmjow thought this over for a second. "Oh yeah, the bathroom."

"Yeah."

"Huh. Small world."

"I guess. Ichigo Kurosaki." He stuck out his hand.

Grimmjow took it. "Grimmjow Jaggerjaques." He looked him up and down, then said, "you look too young to be a doctor."

"About seven years too young. I'm barely qualified to put on a bandaid," Ichigo joked. It was true, in the hospital, there was very little he was permitted to do, but in reality, he knew how to do lots as he'd grown up treating patients with his father.

He watched Grimmjow throw away his stub.

"Another?" He offered, but Grimmjow's pocket buzzed. He sighed and pulled out his cell, reading the text. "I wish." He groaned and stood up, using the rail to help. "Time's up."

He got to the door just as Stark threw it open.

"Relax," Grimmjow said before the other could speak. "Just having a smoke."

Stark's eyes shot up to Ichigo, then back at Grimmjow.

"Just get in here." He held the door open while Grimmjow moved back inside. It slammed shut behind them.

Ichigo let out a smoke filled breath and dropped his half-finished cigarette on the walkway.

Who the Hell was Grimmjow Jaggerjaques?

* * *

AN: My fist fic and a yaoi at that. Going to get into some fairly heavy yaoi in the next couple chapters-not Grimmjow X Ichigo yet though, scroll down to know more

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This fic is largely Aizen X Grimmjow for the first part before it gets into GrimmjowXIchigo


	2. Chapter 2

Grimmjow Jaggerjaques followed Stark out a side door of the hospital and into the waiting car. They sat side by side in the back seat of the black sedan, not speaking. After a while, Stark dug into his coat and withdrew a flask. He uncapped it and handed it to Grimmjow.

Grimmjow drank deep before passing it back. He gave a wheezing cough and Stark looked him over.

"How are you?"

"What, didn't the doc fill you in? A busted wrist and three cracked ribs."

"That's not what I meant."

"Fuck, Stark, it ain't like it hasn't happened before. Besides," he mumbled, turning to the window, "a few broken bones ain't as bad as half the shit he does to me that don't show up on an x-ray."

Stark took his own swig from the flask. "Yeah, I know."

Silence for a few minutes, then Grimmjow spoke, again, facing the window.

"So…you got the orders I'm guessing."

"House arrest for the week," Stark confirmed. "I suggest you don't fight it."

"I won't." Grimmjow now let his head fall against the glass, staring out at the city he wouldn't be able to see for seven days. "I'd thought closing that deal with the North would have helped."

"That's not what he cares about—not with you anyway."

"I know."

"Grimmjow, don't piss him off again anytime soon, okay?"

Grimmjow turned now. "You worried about me, Stark?"

"I have been kid, since the day he brought you home."

Grimmjow stared at him, not used to such open talk. He didn't quite know what to say but it didn't matter because they rolled to a stop at a massive black iron gate. After a moment, the gates opened and they passed into the interior of the compound. The driveway split around an ornate fountain. The front of the mansion was dark now, but flood lights along the roof lit up the grounds and security cameras were everywhere.

"Let's go." Stark slid out of the car. Grimmjow moved a little less gracefully. They ascended the front steps and a security guard opened the doors for them.

"You okay to go up on your own?" Stark asked.

"I'm fine," Grimmjow grunted, but just before parting he met Stark's eyes. "Thanks."

"Just keep in mind what I said."

"Yeah."

He walked up the main stair case alone, took a right and headed past one of the cleaners. He took another right and was at the heart of the mansion.

The door was unguarded. Did that mean he wasn't there? No. He'd be in there, waiting. Some part of Grimmjow considered turning back, but he controlled the thought and took the doorknob in hand.

The room was dark when he entered. It had also been cleaned after the last eighteen hours he'd spent in here. It smelled fresh. The broken chair had been replaced. The sheets were pristine.

He wished it would stay like this for the next week he'd be confined in here.

"You're home." The only other person in the room was sitting up at a small desk. This was not his office, but he often brought work here for those late nights when he would wake, leave the bed and work on whatever had just sprung to his dreaming mind. He rose from the desk, his silk robe tied loosely at his waist, exposing a broad, muscular chest. But it was into the angular, handsome face framed by slick brown hair that Grimmjow looked.

"Yes, Aizen-sama."

"So formal, Grimmjow. Are you nervous?" He came all the way over to him and cupped his face with one hand. "You are, aren't you? It's been a long time since I saw any trace of fear in you."

"I'm not afraid!" Grimmjow reacted and pulled away. Aizen smiled.

"I don't blame you." He reached out again, this time for the top button of Grimmjow's shirt. He slowly parted the fabric, Grimmjow still while he worked. When it was open, he slid it from Grimmjow's shoulders and examined his body. His ribs were darkly bruised, a couple cuts had even been stitched. He traced along one of the marks.

"Stark said three."

"Yes."

Aizen then took his right hand and lifted it up. He kissed Grimmjow's fingers that poked through the cast. "And you wrist."

Grimmjow just nodded. He couldn't read Aizen's mood. He didn't know where this was leading—to mercy or more punishment.

"You still not afraid?" he whispered when he slid his hand under Grimmjow's chin and drew in as if to kiss him.

"A-Aizen—"

"Shhh." Grimmjow was suddenly enveloped in warm arms. Aizen was taller than him, so his face was pressed into his shoulder. He felt the softness of the finest silk, but it became damp. It took him a moment to catch on to the fact tears had leaked out of his eyes.

Had he been crying since he came in? Was he that numb he hadn't even noticed?

He held back, his breathing ragged but more from the stress of his injuries than the tears that seeped slowly from his eyes. He felt as if a weight had lifted from him—the deadening weight of fear, perhaps. Aizen took him to the bed and sat him down. He thumbed away some of the tears beneath Grimmjow's eyes and knelt before him. Grimmjow sat and let Aizen undo his pants, and pulled them gently down. The bruising at his hips was darker than that along his ribs.

"Did the doctor say anything about down here?"

"I…didn't let him look."

"Then I'll have to do it instead."

He pressed Grimmjow back so he was laying on the edge of the bed, his legs still on the floor. He felt Aizen take hold of his boxers and work them all the way down. Then he slid his hands back up his legs and pushed his knees apart.

Grimmjow felt a coil of nervousness again. He had long ago gotten used to being seen by Aizen at every possible angle, but he didn't quite trust that his anger had passed. Still, Aizen's touch was gentle as he traced his way up to the place he'd so abused yesterday.

Grimmjow's breath hissed in as Aizen's finger slid inside him. His legs clenched to shut but Aizen was between them.

"Just let me see," Aizen whispered, pushing deeper, testing. He must have felt the next ripple of pain go through Grimmjow because he withdrew. "All done."

He stood, examining his fingers. Grimmjow saw a touch of crimson but neither of them acknowledged it. Instead Aizen cleaned his hand on a handkerchief and helped Grimmjow to straighten on the bed so his head was on the pillows and the crisp sheets over his naked body. He then sat on the edge and leaned over, stroking Grimmjow's hair from his face.

"Just sleep tonight," he whispered, his hand trailing from Grimmjow's hair down to his chest. But despite his soft words, his eyes hardened. "Then tomorrow we'll discuss your punishment."

Grimmjow lost his breath but Aizen held his face again as if to reassure him. "Nothing you can't handle, Grimmjow. I'll take care of you, but you'll have to indulge me too. I need you to know how much it hurt me when you disobeyed me the other night."

"I—"

"Shh. Don't argue or we'll start right now," he warned. "Just do what I say and go to sleep."

Aizen didn't join him in the bed just yet. He returned to whatever paperwork was splayed on his desk. Grimmjow watched his hunched shoulders as he worked for a long time, sure he could never sleep after the lingering threat, but it didn't take long for the last twenty four hours to catch up with him and sleep to come.

* * *

"Cigarette?"

Grimmjow looked up as if startled. Ichigo was surprised since Grimmjow was facing his way. It was more than a week since their last meeting and Ichigo had spotted him about ten minutes ago. Then he debated with himself as to whether or not he should approach him. When he finally decided he would, he hurried back to his locker and retrieved the smokes that he'd left in there nine days ago just so he'd have something to say when he talked to him.

Grimmjow looked exhausted. The coffee cup in his hands was near empty but it had done nothing to straighten the slouch from his shoulders or the fatigue in his eyes. He examined Ichigo as if he forgot who he was.

"Ah…" he glanced around the cafeteria, Ichigo guessed he was keeping an eye out for his companion, Stark, then he nodded. "Yeah."

He stood, as stiff as the last time he'd been here. Ichigo looked for signs of a new injury. The bruises on his face were nearly gone. His hand was of course still in a cast. But as he drew out his lighter and his sleeve pulled back slightly, Ichigo was sure he caught the sign of reddened, bruised flesh at his wrist. His eyes darted away before he could be caught looking. Instead he lit up as well and they stood in the courtyard. It was the public smoking area, no admitted patients were here. He looked again to Grimmjow's wrist but saw no tag indicating he was admitted.

"Are you alright?" Ichigo finally asked, not sure how else he could breach the subject.

"Wrist is killing me. Doc's gonna take a look when he has an opening."

Right away Ichigo knew it must be the same doctor since no other doctor in the system would just take a patient who showed up, unadmitted. He watched Grimmjow as he alternated between the coffee and the tobacco.

"That's good," Ichigo said awkwardly. Grimmjow didn't seem to mind the first question so Ichigo dared another. "You, uh, don't look so great."

"Thanks."

"Sorry."

But Grimmjow laughed. "Just a long week, kid." He glanced over at Ichigo's name tag. He must have forgotten his name. Ichigo hadn't forgotten his. "Kurosaki, right?"

"Yeah. Ichigo's fine." Was he pushing it being so informal?

Grimmjow didn't seem to think it odd. His mind was clearly elsewhere anyway. Ichigo decided to leave before it got awkward. He stubbed out his cigarette.

"Back to it," he sighed.

"Later." Grimmjow remained to continue smoking. Ichigo went inside, heart pounding. He thought he succeeded in remaining smooth in Grimmjow's presence, but inside his mind had been racing. He was alarmed to see such a mark on Grimmjow. He had overheard that conversation and knew he was in rough business with those men. Had been captured? Had they hurt him that night and now hurt him again? All these questions flooded him but it was something else that had his heart pounding, as much as he tried to lie to himself and say it wasn't.

He was attracted to Grimmjow Jaggerjaques. He was pretty sure that even if he hadn't overheard that conversation behind the club he'd still have been captured by those blue eyes. But now his curiosity was also revving up and he couldn't help wanting to know more and more about Grimmjow Jaggerjaques.

He took the outpatient hallway just out of curiosity. He saw no sign of Stark. Perhaps Grimmjow was on his own this time. He did see the doctor's door shut and glanced at the name plate on the way by. He'd also read it last week. "Nakagawa." He'd kept an eye on the doctor but it seemed Grimmjow was his only patient on the side.

When his shift ended an hour later he took the same hallway. He saw no sign of either Grimmjow or Nakagawa but when he exited through the back to the staff parking lot he saw a figure crossing the lot. By the way he moved, even with his hood up, he knew it was him.

Ichigo hesitated. He would normally take the bus back home but he decided this was worth walking. He crossed the dark lot after Grimmjow.

He realized he was acting like a stalker half way down the block. Since when had he turned into this pathetic sort of person? He shook himself. It was almost nine. It would take him an hour to walk home and he still had a report to finish for the morning. He needed to give this up and go home.

He stopped at the next bus shelter and checked the route number. This would do. He stood inside to cut the wind but he couldn't help that he glanced back down the road.

Grimmjow had stopped, head down, cell in hand. His thumb pounded away on the keys. He held it up to his ear.

Ichigo turned away in case Grimmjow saw him. He felt embarrassed now, that he'd even thought to follow him. He sat on the bench. At least if Grimmjow did see him now, he had a legitimate excuse to be here. The minutes ticked away. He forced himself not to turn around and look in case Grimmjow was still there. That's why his eyes were fixed to his left, in the direction from which he'd come when the group emerged from the around the corner.

Ichigo remained where he was. Gangs didn't bother you if you stayed out of their way. But these guys looked a little cleaner cut, a little more sophisticated than regular punks. Older too. He glanced back at the other end of the street. Grimmjow was still there, phone back in pocket. He must have been waiting for a ride.

It was only quarter after nine, not late at all, but there was barely anyone around. A few people had passed by but now the sidewalk seemed empty. The group—four of them—passed the shelter without giving it a glance, but Ichigo was watching them go. One nudge the other and pointed straight at Grimmjow's back. The young man had no idea they were headed his way.

Ichigo stood. The group was quickly closing the distance. Grimmjow had no warning and no chance if they got him.

"Hey!" Ichigo screamed. It was the best he could come up with in the heat of the moment. The gang turned. Grimmjow turned. Then everyone was running.

As soon as Ichigo saw Grimmjow turn and realize the danger, he bolted. The gang was between them. They seemed confused for a second, as if deciding who to pursue. Then three bolted after Grimmjow and one in hot pursuit of Ichigo.

It was a simple solution for Ichigo. Get back to the hospital. In such a public place no one could openly attack him. But when he cut into the open parking lot, he feared he'd made a mistake. He was surprised to hear shoes snapping against the pavement so close behind him. Ichigo was fit—years of martial arts training and sports had kept him toned and sharp. But he supposed anyone in a gang would also be built to run and fight.

He knew he wasn't going to make it into the hospital, so he waited until he was sure the guy was close. Then he turned.

The man clearly didn't expect him to attack first. That was probably why it was so easy for Ichigo to catch him square in the jaw with a punch and trip him up. The man crashed into the pavement. It was over, just like that.

He stood panting while the man struggled up. He decided it would be best not to have his face seen but he also didn't want to let the man know he worked at the hospital so he couldn't use his key to the staff entrance either. He ended up cutting back out into the street. He should have turned left and taken the sidewalk around to the front of the building.

He should have, but he didn't. Instead he turned right to see what had happened to Grimmjow.

He walked a long way but he didn't find him. There was no sign of any of the men. When he decided to go back to the hospital and check there to see if anyone was admitted, there was no hint there either.

Grimmjow was simply gone, and so where the men who'd attacked him.

Ichigo sat down in cafeteria. He'd just been a part of something—something that could blow back on him if those four men figured out who he was.

His finger tapped nervously on the tabletop. What the Hell had he gotten himself into?

* * *

I decided to change the description in fairness to the fact there will be quite a bit of Aizen/Grimmjow before we get to Grimmjow/Ichigo. Thanks for the reviews, I hope you continue to read!


	3. Chapter 3

Grimmjow sat straight up in bed. Sweat coursed over his naked torso. He looked around, half expecting to see his ankles restrained to the bed posts, the rows of objects on Aizen's desks he reserved for times when Grimmjow _deserved_ them. But the room was back in order, clean and his pants were even still on. He blinked and felt the bed dip beside him.

"You're awake."

He turned to Aizen. He was in his suit, the grey one that was one of Grimmjow's favourites because it really showed off the cut of his body. But that wasn't on his mind now—he was still trying to figure out how he'd gotten here.

"You have a concussion," Aizen clarified and put a hand on his face to still his wandering eyes. Grimmjow raised a hand and felt along his head. He felt the bandage above his right eyebrow.

"What happened?"

"Do you remember anything?"

Grimmjow thought for moment. "Yeah…I was waiting for Stark. Then these guys…four of them..."

"Yes," Aizen prompted. "Then?"

"I'm not sure. I ran, I think."

"Well, since you were three blocks from the meet point I'd say that's a good guess. When Stark found you two of their men were out but the third had a nightstick and you were down."

"A night stick. I should be dead." If the guy hit him right, his skull would have been crushed.

"Unless he was ordered not to kill you."

"Info?"

"Or hostage. In either case, they got what was coming to them. We found the fourth after."

Grimmjow remembered the young man from the hospital. "Where?"

"Staggering down the road with a broken nose. Know anything about that?"

Grimmjow shook his head. "Not really. There was just some bystander who called out when things went down. He must have done it."

"Just a bystander?"

Grimmjow shrugged. Aizen let it go.

"Who were they?" Grimmjow asked.

"Kane's men. But don't worry, we'll figure it out. For now you're on bed rest."

"What, really?"

"Yes." Aizen leaned in and placed a kiss on his brow. "You took a bad hit. It will take some time to recover. So do as I say, alright?"

His face remained close to Grimmjow's. He nodded.

"Good." Aizen leaned in again. This time Grimmjow met the kiss. A hand slid through the back of his hair and another wrapped around his back. But then he withdrew and eased Grimmjow back down. "I'll be in later. Rest up."

* * *

Grimmjow lay in bed unable to sleep. He clutched a pillow and lay on his side, away from the windows as the sun hurt his eyes.

Why hadn't he told Aizen about Ichigo Kurosaki? He'd been surprised, but even in the heat of the moment he'd recognized his bright orange hair and slender build. It had been the kid from the hospital who had saved him. He must have been catching the bus—quite a coincidence but there really wasn't anything suspicious about it as it was right outside from the staff entrance.

But had Kurosaki fought that guy? Was he okay or was his body in a ditch somewhere? There was no way to contact him unless he called the hospital but that might seem suspicious if the kid had called the police. He wouldn't know what happened to him until he could go out on his own again, which wasn't looking promising. Not only was he dizzy with a concussion but the chances Aizen would let him return to work as usual was unlikely unless he completely eliminated the risks.

Grimmjow sighed long and shut his eyes. He wasn't going to fight Aizen on anything for a long time. If he wanted him to stay in the mansion, he'd do it. It wasn't worth another week like the last one. He could still taste it, feel it, smell it. Aizen hadn't hurt him like that first night he'd come back, and he let lose raw anger on him in the form of fists. Instead he'd used every depraved item he could find on him, pushing Grimmjow to his limits in other ways. He hated being restrained. Aizen knew it, and so he saved it for times like this. He'd spent nearly that whole time bound up one way or another.

Sure he'd hit some highs he didn't think were possible, but he'd also had to endure being treated like a sex slave. And more than once Aizen had brought him to tears. He was still sore from it all. His ribs had not gotten the rest they needed either.

As he lay, sleep half took him, taking memories and turning them into vivid replays. He was on his back in the bed, tied spread eagle as Aizen pushed something far too big and vibrating inside him. He choked on his gag, he'd fought not to beg him to stop. Then he was in a chair, forced to sit with it inside of him for half the day, a cock ring preventing any release. He'd cried hardest when Aizen returned and released him. He'd prayed Aizen would let it go then, but always knew Aizen stuck to his word. If he said a week, he meant a week, and even while he'd been working, he always left Grimmjow with something buzzing or twisting inside of him and bound in a way he could never get relief. And when he came back he was relentless in use of Grimmjow's body until he was spent.

Grimmjow opened his eyes again, the dizziness worse with them shut. But every object in the room held a memory of that week if he could be bent over it, lifted on it or tied to it.

The last two days had been good, though. They'd gone back to normal. Normal still involved sex, but none of the rest of that stuff. He wanted things to stay that way. He wanted to feel love for Aizen instead of fear.

But he was starting to worry he never would. He was starting to worry that he'd let himself simply accept this as normal in the past six years since Aizen had claimed him from the streets. He'd been so scared then. He'd thought the mob boss was going to kill him. Then when he'd first taken him, he'd been confused. At some point in between, he'd forgotten about confusion and fear and embraced this life.

When had that happened? And when had he started to resent Aizen for making him this way?

That's what their fight had been about, wasn't it? He'd consciously resisted Aizen's insistence that he return home with him after their business was complete. He didn't even have anywhere to go after the meeting at the box yard, he'd just gotten irked about being treated like a kid, or worse, a possession, and he'd blown up, right there, in front of Stark and all of Aizen's top men. He'd called him some pretty nasty things too, and then he'd run.

He'd been scared after. He couldn't deny that. He'd spent a day trying to avoid Aizen, hoping he might cool down. But he'd known what was coming and he'd just been acting cowardly.

That's when he'd met that kid, when he'd ducked into the club for cover and Stark had sent him that message saying he'd been found and to please handle it quietly.

Now he'd seen Ichigo three times. Funny how a stranger had been such a comfort to him at the hospital. Had he been trying to run into him when he chose to sit in the cafeteria instead of waiting outside that doctor's office?

He shook himself. He didn't even dare think of a stranger just in case Aizen could read his thoughts. He couldn't even admit to himself that he'd found the young man's high cheekbones and brilliant orange hair a stellar combination not to mention the firm muscle beneath his scrubs.

Fuck. He was in trouble if he was having thoughts like that. He'd never looked sideways at another man or woman in six years. Aizen had been his first and only. He'd never even really had a chance to decide if he'd be with a man if it weren't for his circumstances. Now he guessed he knew the answer.

His stomach knotted. Maybe this was what it really came down to. Maybe this was the real reason he had resisted Aizen that day—because he no longer wanted to share a bed with him.

No. He sat up. He shouldn't have because his head spun and his stomach threatened to bottom out but he had to see him now, right now. He had to stop these thoughts in their tracks. This was  
his life. Aizen was his life. He couldn't go back on that now.

"Grimmjow!" he hadn't realized he'd already left the bed. Wow, he was way worse off than he thought. That nightstick had done him some damage. He felt hands around his shoulders, then his waist, keeping him from face planting.

"Aizen," he moaned into his shoulder, holding him tight. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For what I said, in that yard. I'm sorry."

"I know. I forgive you."

Grimmjow gasped. Was he crying or was he in pain? He didn't even know. The world spun, he wasn't on his feet anymore. There was white light and porcelain and then the water beneath him was colouring yellow. He puked again while Aizen steadied him next to the toilet.

"I told you to stay in bed."

"I'm sorry." Grimmjow just repeated. He was crying, he could feel it running down his cheeks. Out there, in the real world, he would never cry. In here, sometimes Aizen made him, but not often, not like this.

As if he did indeed read Grimmjow's thoughts, Aizen answered his question for him. "You're emotional because of the concussion. A severe concussion can do that."

"Oh…" He leaned back from the toilet half faint. Aizen held him against his chest and took a cloth to clean his face. "I was scared."

"When the men attacked you?"

He shook his head no, drowning in the sorrow brought on by the blow to his head. "Last week."

"Scared of what I would do?"

He nodded. "I don't like being tied up."

"I know. But you know why I did it, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Just…think before you act, Grimmjow, and we won't have to go through that again."

"Okay." He agreed through his tears. Aizen squeezed him tighter and got him up and to the bed again. When they lay down together Grimmjow rolled into him.

"Grimmjow, you're sick."

"I want to." He argued. He had to. He had to prove to himself this was what he wanted. His hand went to his own pants to undo them. He wrestled out of them. Aizen let him. Grimmjow tried to kiss him but he pushed him back.

"You just threw up."

"Right…sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Aizen said, now helping Grimmjow out of his pants. "Just open up."

He did so when his pants were all the way off and he spread his legs and lay in wait. He was panting already, most likely because he felt like he was going to puke again, but that didn't matter. This was more important. He couldn't rest until he knew he could forget the thought of any other man and embrace Aizen the same way he'd done since he was sixteen years old.

Aizen entered strong and hard. Grimmjow's arms flew up to hold onto him. He felt the friction of not being lubed or prepared but he didn't care. A few cries escaped him but at the same time he asked for more, for deeper, harder proof that he wanted this and only this.

He fainted after he came. It was probably way too much exertion. He woke a few minutes later to Aizen wetting his face with a wet cloth. He drew back.

"I told you, you were unwell."

"Sorry," he just whispered again.

Aizen smiled and leaned in to kiss his forehead. "I told you to stop saying that." He stood again but moved back on the bed. Grimmjow only realized now that Aizen was still hard. He pushed Grimmjow onto his side and slid one hand under his waist, drawing him back against him.

"I didn't get to finish when you fainted."

Grimmjow gasped when he was filled again. Aizen went hard but by holding Grimmjow so close he didn't jerk his body as much. He managed to stay conscious this time and the gentler motions soon brought him close again. Aizen took a firm grip and brought him to climax for a second time and when he came he brought Aizen over as well. They stilled on the bed. Aizen pulled out but remained pressed into him.

"Do you feel better Grimmjow?"

Grimmjow had calmed considerably. He felt very tired now and just managed to nod.

But in his heart he knew different. Because even after that, there was another face conjuring in his mind.

He passed out in that embrace and with the most devastating realization in the world.

* * *

Sorry for those waiting for GrimmIchi-it's on it's way! I wrote their first steamy scene today and I can't wait until it's ready to publish! Thanks for the reviews!


	4. Chapter 4

"Stark, I have to go on this meet. Kawada is my connection."

"Aizen-sama does not want you leaving the house. Besides, you're a mess."

They were in Aizen's room. Stark was one of the few who'd been in their master's personal quarters but it had nothing to do with his rank and everything to do with being Grimmjow's watchdog and the closest thing he had to a friend. Grimmjow was in sweats and a tank on the couch, fiddling with the black cord of his necklace and trying to read papers Stark had brought to him concerning his deal with Kawada. His eyes were having trouble focussing on the words.

"You can't even read." Stark snatched the papers away. But he lost some of his sternness and passed the pages back to him. "Wait, _can_ you read this?"

Grimmjow looked down. His head was already hurting just from holding a conversation. Trying to make sense of the small black characters was impossible.

"I'll be fine," he argued. Stark knelt before him and raised a hand to his face. He put his thumb under one eye and his forefinger above it. "What are you doing?"

"Checking something."

"You're not a doctor."

"No but I think you should see one."

"We can't go back there, we've gone too much already."

"Nakagawa is just skittish. I'll clear it with Aizen."

"He doesn't want me leaving the mansion."

"Why are you resisting this so much?"

Grimmjow stopped himself. He knew why. He wanted to know that Ichigo was alright, but he also didn't want to see him again. He didn't want to be reminded he might want something different from what he had.

"I just want to take care of business," he covered. "Kawada is my first big deal."

"I know. But it's my job to take care of you too. Don't fool yourself, Grimmjow. You're good at what you do out there: smart, slick—but if Aizen has to choose between your career as a bootlegger or keeping you breathing and in his bed, you know what he'll pick."

Grimmjow scowled. Having Stark talk to him like that made him feel like he was nothing more than a whore. He worked his ass off to get a deal with the northern syndicate Kawada ran. It had been clever and well played and the boys had to give it to him that he was just as worthy as them to run the streets. But he also knew they could never look at him as the same—as just one of the crew.

"Sorry." Stark put a hand on his shoulder. "I'll check with Aizen about taking you. We'll push the meet to next week if we can, but that's still no guarantee Aizen will let you handle it."

"Fine," Grimmjow growled and sank back in the couch.

* * *

Ichigo had picked up more hours than ever at the hospital. He swore to himself he'd done it to get through this portion of his practical faster, but he knew it was a lie. He was watching, all the time, for the blue haired man who had been gone without a trace since the incident.

So were the four men. Ichigo had been terrified they'd come for him, but when twenty-four hours passed without issue he thought he must have escaped unseen.

It was a relief, and yet, he was still stressed out. Because as far as he knew, they'd gotten the man they'd chased down. What if they had him somewhere, torturing him, and Ichigo was the only one who knew anything about it? He should have gone to the police, he knew that, but every covert conversation he'd overheard prevented him from doing so. He knew he'd tread into black waters here, and he needed to be careful. He also considered revealing what happened to Dr. Nakagawa, but decided against that too. He didn't seem too fond of taking on his extra client.

Ichigo still walked by his office every day. He included it in his route to the change rooms even though it was out of his way.

That's why he saw them enter from the far stairwell. He was in the middle of the hall flipping through notes he'd taken when he saw them. He froze when he saw Grimmjow, whose arm was slung over Stark's shoulder as he helped him walk. And blue eyes stared right back at him. Ichigo opened his mouth, but then Grimmjow gave the slightest shake of the head to indicate he shouldn't say anything. So he just turned back to his chart and kept walking. Stark didn't even give him a second glance.

He went up the stairs at the end of the hall, crossed back the way he'd come and descended again so that he was at the end of the hall closest to Nakagawa's door. It was shut of course, but from where he perched in the stairwell he could see when the doctor came out again. He returned a while later with a wheel chair and then out again with Grimmjow in it. He disappeared down the hall, Stark in tow. Ichigo went after them.

He followed just far enough to see they took him toward the imaging unit. Grimmjow must need x-rays, maybe even an MRI. That would be harder to cover up in the hospital log books. Nakagawa was in for big pay day or unemployment.

"It's me." Ichigo jumped at the voice. Stark had left the area and walked toward a window where he perched on the sill as he talked into his cell. His voice echoed low off the pane of glass but Ichigo could hear.

"Nakagawa says it's bad. He's gotta have a scan…yeah one of those. I don't know. Yeah, Nakagawa thinks he should stay overnight. Yeah, that's what I thought. Okay. Be back soon."

He closed his phone and shoved his hands in his pocket. He looked pissed. Maybe he was worried about Grimmjow and thought he should stay.

Nakagawa came out after a bit, exchanged words and left again. Shortly after Grimmjow staggered out. Stark caught him under the arm and steadied him. He leaned him back against the sill and went back into the room, presumably to get the wheel chair. Ichigo had just seconds. He moved quickly down the hall. If Stark came out, he'd just keep walking, but he needed to talk to Grimmjow.

"Hey," he hissed when he got near. Grimmjow had been sitting with his head resting against the window. He drew his fogged eyes down and stiffened. "Just, I need to know about the other night. Those men—"

"It's fine, they were taken care of."

Now Ichigo stiffened. "What does that mean?"

"It means you're safe. Now keep moving."

Ichigo didn't argue. He'd probably already pushed his luck so he continued on down the hall. A few seconds later he heard the door bang open as Stark came back out with the wheel chair.

* * *

"You're quiet," Stark commented when they were back in the house.

"My head hurts."

"Yeah, I know. But that's not what I mean."

Grimmjow looked sideways at him. "Just help me upstairs."

Grimmjow slept for much of the next few days. He never knew what the result of his brain scans were. That information went straight to Aizen. He just knew he felt like shit and realized how stupid he'd been to think he could meet with Kawada while he felt like this.

Aizen left him be. Grimmjow wondered what could have been on those scans for him to leave him alone for so long. Worse, he realized the more time passed without contact, he didn't miss it.

Finally came a day where he felt like he could walk without face planting. He showered and stumbled downstairs to the kitchen. Since Aizen's house was also the base of operations for his illegal dealings, the kitchen was a popular common area, large and furnished with long tables and always stocked with food. Grimmjow grabbed a bowl and filled it with oatmeal still steaming on the pot. He looked around and saw Stark reading the paper while sipping coffee.

"What day is it?" Grimmjow asked when he sat, reading the back of the paper—happy he could read again.

"Friday."

"Damn."

"You feeling better?"

"Yeah."

"Good. We meet with Kawada tomorrow."

"Great. But what does that mean? No threat from Kane?"

"You kidding me?" Stark lowered his paper to look him straight on. "Aizen wiped them out."

"Oh." Kane's organization was small and unorganized. It didn't really surprise Grimmjow that he could have finished the job so quickly. "Good."

"Yes." Stark shook out the pages and stood. "Meet me at lunch and we'll go over the details of your deal with Kawada."

"Got it."

Grimmjow watched him leave. He dropped his bowl in the sink and headed outside. The morning was chill but fresh. He relished the feeling, like he'd finally woken up after a long sleep. He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He put one between his lips and then reached for his lighter but before he could bring it up the cigarette was plucked from him.

"Hey!"

"Doctor's orders." He calmed when he saw it was Aizen.

"Really?"

"Mhmm. But it's a disgusting habit anyway." He was in his suit, heading out to run his legit businesses with his assistant and security but he had no shame in bending down and grabbing Grimmjow by the back of his head, kissing him long and hard. "Rest up," he whispered. "I want to make up for lost time tonight."

He withdrew and the party left. Grimmjow watched them load into the black sedan and leave through the gate.

As soon as they were out of sight he pulled out another cigarette.

* * *

"Enough?" Aizen whispered into his back. Grimmjow nodded into his pillow. He'd had enough two rounds ago but he hadn't said anything. Aizen withdrew and kissed his shoulder before sitting back. He pulled the triangular pillow from beneath Grimmjow's hips and let him lay flat on the bed.

Grimmjow let out a long breath. He was spent, eyes already drooping. Aizen lay back beside him, dragging him over so his head rested against his chest. He held the pendant that Grimmjow always wore, turning the panther over and over in his hands.

"You feel alright?"

A nod. "Tired," he whispered.

"Good. Then sleep."

Grimmjow didn't need more prompting. In the morning, however, he came awake early. They had rolled over, Aizen's hands snug around his waist. He tried to go back to sleep but he couldn't. He was uncomfortable. He wanted to roll away, escape the suffocating hold.

Since when had it felt suffocating? Since when had he not craved it at the end of a long day?

He started to squirm. It woke Aizen and he felt relief thinking he could get up now but instead the other dragged him closer and rolled atop him.

"Morning." He smiled down with a look as lustful as the one last night. His hand slide down under the sheets and played down Grimmjow's stomach. He jolted at firm, fast friction. It wasn't long until he was moaning, hips bucking and Aizen moved in, kneeling astride him. It was quick and dirty but left them both panting. When it was done Aizen got up and showered. Grimmjow needed the time to get his legs working again. Then he took his turn in the shower and made his way down stairs.

He was sore all day. He scowled as he ate breakfast. He was sharp with Stark when they confirmed their plans for the day. He had three cigarettes before nine am.

He was pissed. And was even more pissed that he was pissed.

"I've just gotta get out of this fucking house," he finally blurted to Stark when they were in the lounge where Grimmjow spent his down time when not suffering from a concussion. He was in his favourite position, legs over one arm rest of the easy chair, head over the other and flicking through channels.

"Then get out. Go do something before you drive me crazy. Meet here at eight, okay?"

Grimmjow sat. "I'm allowed out?"

Stark shrugged. "Threat's eliminated. Go."

He didn't to say another word. Grimmjow was out the door in seconds.

It wasn't that he actually hated the mansion. He just couldn't stand to be cooped up in it for too long.

He hit the streets at once. He didn't take a car. He needed the exercise. He passed by high rises, knowing what kind of people occupied them on a Saturday morning—rich ones. He chuckled to himself. How the hell did someone like him end up set for life like this? What did Aizen ever see in him that he wanted? At that age, he was no different than any of the street kids.

He slowed down in the shopping district, scanning the area for an idea of what to do. He wished Stark didn't have to work all the time. He was glad Yammy did—he hated the fat bastard.

What to do, what to do…his eyes alighted on a group sitting around a stone table near a stall. They were eating pizza, laughing, carrying shopping bags. Among them, was Ichigo Kurosaki. It wasn't exactly a coincidence—this district was smack between the hospital and the university and all the people were university aged. This was the most popular area to come to on a Saturday morning to either nurse a hangover with greasy food or enjoy a leisurely day of shopping and eating with friends.

A girl with short dark hair sat beside Ichigo. Her rigid posture gave away that she was a fighter. She was tall too, based on her shoulders against Ichigo's. She was really quite beautiful.

Grimmjow wondered if given the chance, if he could ever love a woman. He thought maybe he could, maybe he'd want that. To her left was a woman of extraordinary proportions. Her breasts were modestly covered by a turtleneck but there was no hiding their size. But that wasn't what made her beautiful, Grimmjow thought. It was her bright eyes and smile, when he could see them—the wind kept whipping her exceptionally long hair in front of her face. Side by side, she and her friend could be supermodels. Maybe they were, maybe they were even a couple. But no, judging but the soft smile she gave Ichigo when he passed her another slice, she was not into girls.

Another pair were across from them. One definitely looked hung over, holding his mop of brown hair between his hands. Next to him a dark haired, slender young man sucked on a coke and stared around the crowd.

His eyes landed on Grimmjow. Grimmjow broke his gaze. He'd been caught staring at them. It was kind of embarrassing. The guy must have said something because next thing Ichigo looked up and saw him. He sort of froze. It wasn't fear or anything, it was just utter surprise. Grimmjow started to turn but Ichigo half raised his hand, as if telling him not to go. He stood up from the table and his friends. Grimmjow told himself to go, but his feet stayed put.

"Grimmjow," Ichigo greeted when he reached him.

Over his shoulder, Grimmjow could see his friends watching. They'd wonder who he was, how Ichigo knew him.

"Sorry," he said reactively. He seemed to be saying that a lot these days, for someone who made his living in the criminal underworld.

"It's okay." Ichigo didn't seem frightened or anything, despite what had happened the other day. "How are you?" His eyes turned up to the deep mark on his forehead. The bandage was gone now, but bad bruising remained and he'd been cut too.

"Better."

"It looks bad. Was that from the other night?"

"Yeah. Nightstick."

Ichigo's eyes went wide. "You're lucky you aren't dead."

"My thoughts exactly."

"So about that…"

"It's over, like I said. My…friends came and helped me out, put a scare in those guys. There's nothing to worry about." It was a lie, but Grimmjow didn't know how many conversations Ichigo had overheard. He didn't know that Ichigo knew he was connected with Aizen. And of course, Ichigo didn't want to admit how he'd spied on him several times, so he had to let it go. He got the message though—it was over.

"You kinda saved me back there," Grimmjow added. "I wasn't paying attention, had no idea they were coming at me."

"I just yelled."

"Still…hey, what about the one that went after you?"

"I hit him. He went down first punch."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Impressive."

Ichigo smiled. Then he controlled it and said seriously. "Why were they after you?"

"I can't say." Ichigo was a bit surprised he didn't have some smooth lie lined up. But then again, this was just as effective in stopping his questions.

"I understand. I'm glad you're doing alright."

"Yeah."

The awkwardness was growing. Ichigo didn't know what else to say but he didn't really want to end the conversation either. It was the first chance he'd gotten to just talk the man who'd so enthralled him since their meeting at the club.

Then Orihime saved him. He hadn't even noticed her approach but suddenly she was there, sticking out her hand to introduce herself to Grimmjow. Maybe she read their body language, or maybe it was just because she was a welcoming person, but her timing was perfect to ease the tension. Grimmjow shook her hand and gave his name.

Then she invited him to join them.

"We have plenty of extra."

Grimmjow was clearly taken aback by the offer. In fact, he seemed to have no idea how to the respond to the situation. Ichigo didn't know that since he was sixteen, Grimmjow hadn't had a single friend outside the organization and very few people close to his age. Ichigo didn't know that Grimmjow had never had friends, gone to a pizza shop and hung out all day with them.

"Yes," Ichigo insisted when Grimmjow still didn't say anything. "You should meet the others."

Grimmjow still never said yes, but Orihime bounded back to them and Ichigo started to move away as well. For a few more seconds, Grimmjow was still. Then slowly, as if he was still processing what was happening, he began to follow them.

Orihime made introductions. Grimmjow scanned the faces of Tatsuki, Keigo and Mizuiro each in turn. The last stuck out his hand to shake Grimmjow's and then shoved Keigo to make room on the bench. Grimmjow stared at the space between Keigo and Ichigo.

He sat down.

"So, how do you know Ichigo?" Tatsuki asked. She was even more beautiful up close, and she had sharp, intelligent eyes.

"We met at the hospital," Ichigo answered for him. Perhaps he'd come up with this story in the time it had taken to cross the busy shopping area back to the table. "We had coffee in the cafeteria."

"Oh." Everyone's eyes alighted on the wound on Grimmjow's head but no one asked. Grimmjow said nothing.

"Here, have some." Mizuiro passed a plate before Grimmjow. He of course, had enjoyed pizza many times with Stark and Yammy in the lounge, though it wasn't refined enough for Aizen.

He chewed on it while they talked, watching them interact like they were another species. Is this what his life would have been like if he'd never met Aizen? Would he be carefree and cheerful like them?

"So what do you do?" Tatsuki asked after some time. "Do you go to the university?"

"No. I work."

"Where?"

"Security for one of Aizen-sama's import businesses." Now this _was_ a well-rehearsed lie.

"Really? Sounds dangerous!" Orihime exclaimed.

"You must be a good fighter," Tatsuki added, an edge of a challenge in her voice.

"Or a good shooter," Mizuiro said.

"Is that how you got beat up?" Keigo asked without care for politeness. Ichigo shot him a look but Grimmjow just nodded. He'd forgotten some of the bruises from his fight with Aizen were still visible.

"Wow…maybe you should do something else that's not so scary." Orihime said.

Grimmjow looked at her. Something else? Like what? What would he do, if he could choose a different path?

It was pointless to think about. He let out a long breath and realized he hadn't made any response to her statement.

"I'm good at it," he said simply. They let it go. They remained for a while but then Tatsuki stretched and reminded them they had tickets to a movie. They invited Grimmjow but he declined. He watched them leave, but Ichigo told the others he'd catch up.

"Sorry if they're a bit much."

"It's fine."

"Are you…okay?"

Grimmjow looked at him. He didn't know the answer. He felt strange, like he'd just visited another world. Tonight, what would this group do? Would they go clubbing, would they go home and study, or just watch tv? Tonight, what would he do? He'd close a business deal for bootlegged goods in the sketchiest part of town with five armed men then he'd go home and have sex with a man fifteen years older than him who'd picked him up when he was under age.

Which was normal?

"Grimmjow?"

He'd done it again—spaced out, lost in his own thoughts because he spent so much time alone anyway.

"What?"

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Okay. Well I better catch up. But hey, we come here every Saturday. Why don't you come next week?"

Grimmjow nodded. It wasn't a sure sign of anything really except that he heard. He stood.

"I have to go too. Later."

He melted into the crowd in seconds. Other customers hurried Ichigo from the table. He waited a minute or two, just in case Grimmjow came back, but he didn't.

He left after his friends, mind racing after the encounter. Once again he wished he could know who Grimmjow really was. Was he in trouble or did he make trouble? If he was in trouble, maybe Ichigo should have asked. He should have at least given him his number, offered him help. But if he made trouble this would likely piss him off. No, he thought he'd played it cool enough. He just hoped that in a week, Grimmjow would be back at their table.

* * *

Glad for the reviews! Thanks!


	5. Chapter 5

Grimmjow was on his seventh cigarette of the day when he lit up under the shadow of stacked box cars. Above him a crane hung asleep, casting a long, crisscrossing shadow over the open part of the yard. He stood alone but was not alone—Aizen's men had eyes everywhere. This was a new relationship. They neither wanted to scare their new business away nor let them pull something unexpected. So to the untrained eye, Grimmjow stood alone in the yard, striking his seventh light.

Right on time a beige truck pulled in. It stopped ten feet from him and a burly man wearing sunglasses despite the fact the only light came from the flood lights, stepped out.

"Mr. Jaggerjaques." He extended his hand. Grimmjow took it. "Run into some trouble since last we spoke?" He was looking at Grimmjow's hand.

"Only a little." He smirked. Kawada laughed.

"So long as trouble stays with you and doesn't land on me, I'm happy."

"Not to worry, Mr. Kawada, our operation is clean. You'll see for yourself tonight."

He led Mr. Kawada and his two men to a container and explained the process by which they would be transferring money and goods. Then they made their first exchange. Everything went smoothly. He closed his first major deal and scored them a top rank client.

He was thrilled.

Stark clapped him on the back afterward. They drove home in Starks car, a stylish Mercedes, and cranked the music. Aizen was waiting for them when they arrived. He took Grimmjow aside when they went in and had him go over the details of the exchange. He agreed that it seemed everything went smoothly but he didn't offer him a smile or any sign of special treatment.

Grimmjow loved that. Because he felt professional. He felt normal in the way he understood the word normal.

He was happy when he went to bed. The worry that had accumulated earlier in the day after meeting Ichigo's group slid away. He wanted them too. He never wanted to feel those things again.

But then when they undressed, Aizen pushed down on Grimmjow's shoulders prompting him to get on his knees. He did and Aizen sat before him on the edge of the bed and opened his legs.

And in an instant Grimmjow felt like nothing again. It shouldn't matter. It was just a blow job, but it made him feel degraded. It made him feel like less when fingers knotted in his hair and hips thrust forward forcing him to take in enough to choke him.

He threw up after. That hadn't happened in years. He stood in the bathroom, cleaning himself up. Aizen moved behind him, watching him the mirror. One hand trailed along his jaw.

"Do we have to practice more, until your gag reflex gets numb again?" he teased and kissed Grimmjow's jaw.

"It's already fuckin' numb after last week," Grimmjow bit out a little harsher than he meant. Aizen saw him react to his own statement, regretting it and then almost flinching as he realized it had come out verbally and not just in his mind.

"That's right, you didn't throw up once all those times," he continued in even tones, taking Grimmjow by the shoulders and turning him around to face him. "You have the mouth of a whore."

Let it go. Let it go. Letitgo. Letitgoletitgoletitgo—

He didn't let it go.

"Shut the fuck up! I'm not a fucking whore you—"

He stopped himself but Aizen's eyes were already wide.

"You what? What were you going to call me?"

"N-nothing."

"What were you going to say?!" Aizen's hand shot up to his throat.

"Nothing, Aizen."

Grimmjow's head hit the mirror. It cracked into a spider-web of thin lines above the sink.

"Say it."

_Pervert_. Pervert is the word that came to Grimmjow's mind in that moment. But he was smart enough not to admit that. _Bastard_ was a safer choice.

"Bastard," he wheezed out past the pressure.

Aizen let up his hold. Grimmjow gasped and fell away from the mirror. He saw Aizen's fist balled but he eyes were on the wound on Grimmjow's skull.

The fist went to his gut. Grimmjow doubled but Aizen brought him back up. He brought his knee up this time. Grimmjow lost his ability to breathe and collapsed completely on the floor of the bathroom. He couldn't move for a moment, stunned, and by the time he could it was already too late. Aizen had retrieved something from the bathroom closet and it was now snug around his wrists at his back.

"Aizen, I'm sorry."

It was futile. This earned him a bruising slap when he was hauled up and shoved through the door. He stumbled and fell to his knees.

"Aizen I mean it, I'm sorry. I don't want it this way."

A second slap made his eyes sting but if he hadn't had a concussion he knew they would be fists. Then the gag was pressed in his mouth and his protests came to an end.

When it was over, Grimmjow sobbed. He had cried the week before, but not like this. He hadn't cried like this since he was a kid. But tonight he did. Tonight he sobbed so hard he thought he'd suffocate on his gag.

Aizen had gone at him with the intent to hurt. He drove deep and unrelenting. He shoved Grimmjow's face into the floor, the desk—whatever surface was beneath him each time, bruising his cheek. His hips were forced against hard edges with nothing to soften the impact at each thrust.

Grimmjow grunted and groaned but he held it together until the end. They finished on the bed, Aizen's hand knotted in Grimmjow hair, shoving his face against the mattress as he went as hard his physics allowed. It was when he pulled out and lay away from Grimmjow, that it hit him. He started to shake. He thought he might faint, but this was what had come instead: a tidal wave of tears and shortened breath. He lay as he was left, hands still knotted together at his back, gag soaked with saliva and sobbing for all he was worth into the mattress the had been their shared domain for six years.

* * *

"You're hung up on that guy, aren't you?"

Mizuiro sat on the edge of the couch, looking down on Ichigo who'd been sleeping on it.

"What are you talking about?"

"Come on Ichigo, haven't we been friends too long for this?"

It was Sunday morning. Saturday night had spilled over into the wee hours after a wild university party and Ichigo had ended up crashing at Keigo and Mizuiro's shared apartment. His own was farther from campus, a bit closer to the hospital so that when he had to travel late at night from his practicum, he didn't have travel quite so far.

Ichigo scowled. Mizuiro smiled. "Who is Grimmjow Jaggerjaques anyway? His answers were pretty vague about what he did."

Ichigo shrugged. "I barely know him."

"Ah, love at first sight," his friend joked.

Ichigo sat and threw a pillow at him. "It's not like that."

"Sure it is. You're crushing hard, I can tell. But you're smooth, I'll give you that, Ichigo. I bet he doesn't even have a clue."

"Yeah well, I don't think that's what's on his mind."

"Oh? You just said you don't know him very well, so what makes you say that?"

Ichigo hesitated. He'd given himself away. Damn, it must be the alcohol still in his system. "I just think his job seems to keep him pretty busy."

"Mmm, that's one way to put it." Mizuiro didn't challenge him but a seed of suspicion had obviously been planted. "He's kind of young to be doing that sort of work. I mean, he looked the same age as us."

"Well if we didn't go to school we'd be working too."

"True. But someone like Aizen probably hires the best, most experienced people to watch his property."

"Someone like Aizen probably doesn't do the hiring for every grunt job. He probably doesn't even know Grimmjow's name."

That wasn't true and Ichigo knew it. It had been to Aizen that Stark had spoken those two times—both concerning Grimmjow's well being. Was he perhaps a son? Ichigo didn't know how old Aizen was, but even if Grimmjow wasn't a direct relation he could be a nephew or someone else related to him. What other explanation could there be for their relationship, especially the implication that they shared a home, which he'd gotten from the initial conversation.

"I suppose," Mizuiro conceded. "Well, are you up for breakfast?"

"Yeah, but I'm betting Keigo isn't."

The weekend ended all too quickly. The week itself drug on with tireless amounts of work. He only had two shifts at the hospital which helped ease his burden but those nights he lay awake late, wondering if Nakagawa's special patient had paid him any visits this week.

Friday they took a break from partying. The girls went to some boy band concert and Ichigo and the boys downed beers and ate pizza in front of the tv.

But in the morning, Ichigo woke, sharp and ready to go. Because he had invited someone to their weekly gathering and he desperately wanted to get there and see if he came.

They went. They spent two hours at the booth. Ichigo ate and chatted with his friends, but the morning passed into afternoon and it was obvious Grimmjow was not coming. That marked a full week since he'd seen him. After all those chance meetings, it seemed impossible now that he could go so long without encountering him.

But he had, and he had a strange feeling he wouldn't see Grimmjow anytime soon.

* * *

"Don't…" Grimmjow sat up again when Grimmjow took his ankle and slipped a soft band around it. "Aizen—"

"Shh…" He was hushed into silence and watched with nervousness as Aizen secured his left ankle to the bed post, leaving it taught from his body and slightly raised. "Just this one. No need to worry, you could undo it no problem."

Aizen moved back up the bed and pressed a hand to his chest, making him lie flat again. "Now be still."

Grimmjow tried, but lying flat like this, he couldn't see what Aizen was up to when he moved back down to the foot of the bed.

His right knee was held and pushed to the side, opening him up. His breath became nervous with anticipation.

He gasped when he felt the warm kiss on his inner thigh. They began to go higher and higher until Grimmjow cried out as he was taken in Aizen's mouth.

He shuddered and quickly lost control of himself. Aizen pressed a hand against his hips—the bruises fading now after nearly a week. This combined with the binding around his other leg prevented him from bucking up. It was an uncontrollably slow build, Aizen's method so precise and calm it stimulated without offering satisfaction.

Grimmjow crossed his arms over his eyes, just trying to breathe. It had been a very long time since Aizen had shown him this kind of treatment. A chuckled ran from Aizen's throat right though Grimmjow and he tried again to move but was stopped. Aizen must have looked up and seen his distressed face.

"Alright then," Aizen acknowledged his need and suddenly the pleasure was overwhelming. After a hard suck, Grimmjow was done. Aizen withdrew and used his hand to finish the job, Grimmjow barely able to breathe as he'd hit a climax that far exceeded anything he'd felt for a while.

When he stilled, Aizen undid the binding on his leg and massaged the limb, up his body, until his hands were back up to his hips. Grimmjow was barely conscious of his actions. Lubed fingers slid inside him, feeling a tightness created by a week of abstinence.

_"I forgive you_." _Aizen had whispered in his ear Sunday morning, releasing his bindings and wrapping him in a tight embrace. Grimmjow hadn't even had the energy to respond. He'd passed again on Aizen's chest. _

Aizen had left him be since then. He knew it would take some time for the damage to heal over. Grimmjow of course, wouldn't have admitted he was in pain. As soon as he could walk normal and he was sure Aizen wouldn't get mad, he been out that door.

He'd gone to the pizza place. He wasn't sure why. Ichigo had said it was a Saturday thing. Maybe that's why he went—because he knew Ichigo wouldn't be there. He didn't want to see him, he just wanted to revisit the site of his confusion.

He'd left the scene shortly. He'd gotten high, came home and slept and the next day he'd gone back to work. It wasn't like he had a regular job—he couldn't. If Aizen wanted him elsewhere, he couldn't really have responsibilities tying him down at the boxcars. That was, except for making deals. Grimmjow was good at it. He was approachable, probably because he was young. He had been spotting potential buyers since he was sixteen and shortly afterward, under Starks' watch, he'd started making the first introductions. No one was going to be too threatened by a street punk—not in this business anyway. Now he was simply a natural.

It gave him purpose and he enjoyed it, but the times for deal making were few and far between, so to fill the rest of his hours, he often shadowed Stark or simply helped move things in the warehouse.

Grimmjow couldn't stand to be idle.

He'd slept very well last night, since he'd spent half the day lifting boxes and was tired. Aizen didn't come home until late. He barely remembered the bed dipping and hands closing around him.

Now the morning light streamed in on them and Grimmjow felt more at peace than he had in a long time. He was almost asleep again when Aizen leaned in and gripped his shoulders.

"Hey, I'm not going to do all the work." With that, he flipped them over. Grimmjow was suddenly on top of Aizen. It was the second surprising turn of events in mere minutes. Aizen shifted, propping himself up a bit and then taking hold of Grimmjow's hips. Grimmjow reciprocated by holding onto Aizen's shoulders.

"Ah…" Aizen pushed him back slowly, filling him inch by inch. He could see every expression that crossed Grimmjow's face.

"Does it hurt?"

Grimmjow shook his head, no.

"Good. Then start moving."

Grimmjow did. He had control. He shifted until he got the best angle and then he drew himself up and back down again. He shuddered, hardening again. He moved up again and repeated the motion. Aizen let him do the moving for as long as he could, then his grip on Grimmjow's hips firmed and he began to meet Grimmjow's motions, thrusting upwards.

It was glorious.

Grimmjow panted into Aizen's chest in the aftermath. Then he raised himself up and brought his mouth in line with Aizen's. He never wanted to leave that kiss, this moment, this feeling of utter satisfaction. He was rolled on his back and Aizen devoured him. When he finally pulled back, he slipped his hand into Grimmjow's and flopped back next to him.

"Satisfied?"

Grimmjow could only nod, but he turned his head to look at him and his true feelings were written all over his face. Aizen reached across with his other hand and stroked the side of his face for a moment.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"Good. Shower?"

Grimmjow shook his head. He wasn't going to have the energy to get out of bed for a while. Aizen chuckled and left.

They spent the day together, the third rare occurrence. Aizen was very busy, and often they only saw one another between the sheets. It wasn't until lunch time that Grimmjow remembered the pizza shop and the standing invitation. He couldn't decide how he felt about that, so he chose to forget about it. In fact, he chose to forget about Ichigo Kurosaki all together.

But it seemed fate had other plans.

"Grimmjow, I have a job for you," Aizen said when they were back in the car in the late afternoon. Grimmjow had been watching the buildings roll by, he knew exactly where they were—it didn't matter how big and populous the city was, he'd never be lost in it. He knew it better than he knew anything.

"A job?" Aizen never seemed interested in Grimmjow's criminal life, only his sexual one.

"I'm afraid you're the best candidate." Now Grimmjow was really intrigued.

"For what?"

"Higher education, Grimmjow." He smiled at the bewildered look on Grimmjow's face. "I've enrolled you in university."

"W-what? I didn't even go to high school."

Aizen chuckled. "You're sharp, Grimmjow, don't underestimate yourself. You'll do fine. Besides, all I need you to do, is not get kicked out."

Now that the initial surprise what wearing off, Grimmjow started thinking it over. "There's someone there you want me to watch?"

Aizen smiled. "I told you, you're clever."

"So who is it?"

"An old associate of mine. He retired from the industry for a quiet life of professorship. He was transferred to the faculty of medicine at UTokyo last month and he's starting a new series of seminars on Monday. All I want if for you to keep an eye on him."

"What should I be looking for?"

"I'm concerned that his return here is not coincidental. He once threatened to turn rat with valuable information—information about me. I tried to have him eliminated of course, but he trapped me with a clever ploy that prevents me from ever terminating his life. He did however, do me the pleasure of moving away so I'd never have to see him again."

"And now he's back."

"Yes. I want to keep tabs on him. He's a bit of a recluse so I imagine if he were to make contact with government or police or other unfavourable sorts, he'd do it there, on campus, where he felt safe. I've already checked, he lives in a residence there."

"Okay. I can do it."

Aizen put a hand no his knee. "Thank you, Grimmjow. The burden of course, won't be solely on you. If you could observe him during class times and his office hours, I can take care of the rest. I'm just afraid putting Stark or Yammy in the middle of a lecture Hall might be a little too obvious."

Grimmjow laughed at the thought. Then Aizen informed him that the details of his courses and were waiting at him for them at home.

Back in the mansion, Grimmjow shuffled through papers spread over the large table in their meeting room. Stark leaned over his shoulder, also reading the details of his course lists.

"How's your knowledge of nuclear medicine, Grimmjow?" He was reading one of the course descriptions.

Grimmjow shrugged. "I'm sure I can convince a classmate to let me look over their shoulder on a test."

"Cheating already, tsk tsk." Stark smirked.

"Just do whatever is necessary to stay in those classes." Aizen said and pushed another information packet his way. Grimmjow picked it up. "This is the target."

"Urahara," Grimmjow read. "So what was some super science nerd doing in your business?"

"Don't worry about those details, Grimmjow. Just watch and see if he's making contact with any government agencies."

"Got it."

"Good. Stark will get you some books, make it look like you're actually there to learn."

"Yeah, okay." Aizen was standing, clearly on his way out.

"I'll be late tonight. I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay."

Aizen left them. He and Stark reviewed a few more details then headed out themselves. Yammy joined up with them. It was a Saturday night and Grimmjow didn't have anyone waiting for him, so they took the opportunity to hit up the down town scene.

Yammy got drunk and got them pulled into a fight. Grimmjow beat the shit out of the guy who came at him. He also broke the nose of another when he managed to land a punch on Stark's chin. They came away relatively unscathed and evaded the ensuing swarm of police called. They grabbed fast food on the way home and passed out on the couches in the common room. All in all, it was good night.

But just before he passed out, Grimmjow couldn't help but think to Monday and wonder just what his life as a student would be like.

* * *

Happy V-day lovers! This nice long chap was my gift to you! Thanks for your reviews!


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